


the first bud of spring

by LuckyDiceKirby



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Epistolary, M/M, look it's not canon that they WEREN'T childhood friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 05:24:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14129028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyDiceKirby/pseuds/LuckyDiceKirby
Summary: Prince Ephrim,We didn't call you that, back when the both of us were young, and we played together in the lingering light of the cooking fires. You weren't a prince, and I wasn't an exarch; and we had our own worries, great ones, but none so great as those that face us now.





	the first bud of spring

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Suedeuxnim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suedeuxnim/gifts).



> Happy birthday Danny!!!

Prince Ephrim,

We didn't call you that, back when the both of us were young, and we played together in the lingering light of the cooking fires. You weren't a prince, and I wasn't an exarch; and we had our own worries, great ones, but none so great as those that face us now.

It is a hard thing, to avoid dwelling on one’s past. I saw you only briefly, before the both of us left Rosemerrow. I wasn't even sure it was you, or if it was only my mind, always so insistently sentimental, playing a trick on me. Bringing back a spectre from my childhood, a reminder of all the things that I’ve lost.

But I asked Hadrian, and he told me that it was you in truth, traveling on your own path. I thought of writing to you. But letters, just then, had not succeeded in bringing me a great deal of joy. I resolved to find you again, after both of our journeys were done. To reminisce, and share news of our travels. With the sun gone, is it any surprise I was craving familiarity, even from so long ago, from the half-forgotten vestiges of childhood?

I admit it was a foolish thought, to imagine our journeys might be so quickly ended. Our problems so easily solved.

But in a way, my prayer was answered. I did see you again, though I did not know it until later. I am much recovered, they tell me. But still, the most I have is bits and pieces. But I do remember your voice. And your blade, both of them cutting through the fog.

There’s no one else I can talk to. Hadrian is changed, these days. And Arrell--I won't suffer you to speak of him. If he receives my letters, he does not deign to respond.

I would understand if you would rather not see me, or any person of the Creed. But if it's not too much trouble, I wish that you would write.

Yours,  
Alyosha

-

I’m no prince anymore, Exarch.

You want to talk to someone? Fine. But anyone would be better than me.

-

Ephrim,

It’s funny. I don’t think I ever realized what my favorite part of this work was. Traveling from city to city, meeting new people, organizing events for the church--inside all of that, the thing that dragged me from my bed on hard days was the promise of trivialities. Words exchanged in greeting or in parting. Asking after a new paramour, or how the roof repairs were going, or has Elana learned to walk already?

Small connections, tiny threads. We had them back in the Grand Tour, too. No matter how bad things got. No matter how little time we spent in one place. There was always something small to ask after. 

I even used to--

Well. I told you I wouldn’t speak of him.

What I mean to say, Ephrim, is that even in the darkest times, even before His sun returned to us--someone’s sun, anyway--we need that. Small things to carry us through. A connection. A hand reaching out across the divide.

I know you’ve settled at the University; otherwise you would never have received my first letter. How are the repairs going? The fortifications? I heard that Red Jack is there. The man from the stories. I used to tell those to you, didn’t I, when the fires burnt low, and we could no longer read our books of the Creed. Until you learned that you could build the fires up again whenever you wanted. I think that perhaps that’s what this is--the chance to rekindle a flame, long ago banked. I thought, when our camps separated, that I would never see you again. I didn’t even know where to write. I lost many friends that way, and I’ve made my peace with it. But here we are again, paths crossing. A coincidence, or an inevitability.

It truly is difficult to believe that Red Jack is real. I can’t lie; the thought makes me smile, the childish part of me that never quite grew out of campfire stories. We don’t have to speak of anything else. Of the past, distant or immediate. But could you tell me about him?

Yours,  
Alyosha

-

Exarch Alyosha, 

Red Jack is just as tall as in the stories, and half again as broad as they say. When he laughs, we can hear it through the entire encampment. Kind of annoying in the mornings, to tell you the truth.

I don’t know what you want from me. Gossip? Sure, I can give you that. The University is fine. I help with the repairs as best as I can. Corsica Nue is here, and she has things pretty well in hand.

But that’s not what you want, is it? You want to talk about what we saw. Who we saw.

I don’t know whose sun it is. But it wasn’t His. He wasn’t--he just wasn’t. It was a lie. A pretty story told to keep the pawns in line, and I was one of them.

I struck him down, and I left you there alone. You know, I didn’t recognize you. That part of my life, the time when I knew you, it feels so far away. A shimmer of heat above a flame. 

Hadrian wrote to me. He told me that he found you. He told me it was his fault that you were lost at all. Hadrian lost you, and I failed to save you--and now you write me letters, and you work with Hadrian, and all together, somehow, we’re supposed to push back the Heat and the Dark?

It’s taken me this long to even find the words to say what I mean.

I’m sorry.

-

Ephrim,

You know, I can just imagine it. Laughter loud enough to shake the trees. I hope that I can meet him, someday. 

I know that our childhood wasn’t easy. It was what brought us both to Samothes, and I used to take comfort in that. But even with the way things are now, I don’t regret it. The paths of our lives are long and winding and circuitous, but I do think they have a purpose. 

I don’t know if it’s right to say that Hadrian lost me. I think Hadrian has been lost for a long time. One I thought that I could help. But I don’t know anymore if I can help him find the light.

Has he written to you of our Lord? The true one, inside the blade. I believe him. Hadrian is not a man made for deception. And I have had long years of practice in believing in Samothes, even when I can see only the barest traces of His warmth in our world. I don’t know if He can help us. I believe that He wants to. When I was younger, I used to believe that wanting was enough. That the force of want, of love, of desire, was enough to shape the world. But I’m sure of much less, these days. 

What do you believe?

Yours,  
Alyosha

-

Alyosha,

Not much, these days. I believe in our work. I believe in putting food on the table and getting through each day as best as we can. I believe the stories Red Jack tells around the fire. I’ve attached a few. I’ve been writing them down, when I can snatch the time. I don’t know. It seems like a worthwhile project. Probably a silly one, too. Who knows if anyone will be alive to read them?

It’s in me, now. The Heat and the Dark. Because of him, because of what he did to me. I don’t know if I’ll ever be safe again. If any of us will ever be safe. 

Here’s what I believe, Alyosha.

Samothes won’t save us. Neither will Samot, or Severia, or any of them. If we wish to save Hieron, then we will have to do it ourselves, with our sweat and our fire and our breath. Hieron needs us; Hieron needs me; Hieron needs anyone who will do the work that must be done, who will draw a blade when it must be drawn. 

We’re all that’s left. 

-

Ephrim,

Thank you for the stories--it’s so rare to hear new ones, when you’ve traveled as long and as far as I have.

And it isn’t silly, to write them down. To have hope that someone will read them. It’s the only way we can keep moving forward. The both of us were betrayed by someone we thought would save us. We know what it means to be controlled. But we broke free. And after all that, I was given the chance to talk to you again, with someone who I was sure was lost to my memories. There is a beauty in that. Like the first bud of spring, breaking through the frozen ground of winter. No calamity lasts forever. There is always something waiting on the other side.

And even besides all that. It isn’t silly to write down a story, in the hopes that it will bring a smile to your friend’s face.

I don’t know if you’re right. But I think you, more than anyone, know what it will take to bring us back from the brink. But please, take care of yourself. 

Yours,  
Alyosha

-

Alyosha,

Is that what all of this makes us? Friends? 

I’m not used to writing letters. When I leave a place, I leave it. Like stories in a book. A page turned, a chapter ended. There’s a finality to that. That’s how I’ve lived my life until now. I’m used to conversation, to immediacy, not this endless, slow stream or words.

See? This isn’t useful. There’s nothing to stop me from talking my way into circles. What I’m trying to say is, I wish that you were here. That we could really talk. I know you don’t mind letters. You never did, even when we were kids. You were always writing to the friends you’d made in the villages we visited.

You were always good at that: making friends. Even with me. I never used to talk. But you always sat with me anyway.

It was harder to be angry, when you were there.

I know that Hadrian has a plan. But if he can spare you, then we could use your help here. And I’d like to see you.

-

Ephrim, 

I think friends is the least of what we are, after everything. But we’ll see, won’t we? Something else to await on the horizon.

You know, I missed it. Conviction. The way that knowledge can rest, heavy, just below your heart: the certainty that you are doing the right thing.

I’ll come, Ephrim. I think there may be books at the University that could help me. In that forge, in that terrible place--there was light there. There was growth. I left, when Hadrian found me. I think that maybe I shouldn’t have. I can make a study of it. And perhaps I can do some good there.

Light can always be found in the darkness, in so many different ways. I do still believe that. I’ll see you soon. 

Yours,  
Alyosha


End file.
